


Boxed In

by angellwings



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: Fic request from tumblr: "i was wondering if you could write a one shot about jaz getting shot and having to keep continuing with the mission and dalton like freaking out?"





	Boxed In

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I got a fic request from an anon on tumblr: "i was wondering if you could write a one shot about jaz getting shot and having to keep continuing with the mission and dalton like freaking out?" I love me some hurt/comfort so sure! Why not. Happy reading!

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

Dalton's head jerked in the direction of the sound. Where had that come from? He had no visual on the rest of his team with the exception of McG who had his back pressed against the burned out car next to him.

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

It sounded closer now. The break in the shots made him think the second set was cover fire.

"Incoming!" He heard Preach shout.

Jaz was offering the cover fire. He glanced over the top of the car to see if he'd guessed right. Amir and Preach were running toward them, keeping low to hide amongst the rest of the debris. Jaz was hidden out of sight but he could hear the ongoing gun fire exchange. Dalton lifted his own gun and responded to the exchange instead of Jaz. Giving her a window to make her way toward them.

They'd been caught in the midst of an explosion after wrapping a previous mission. They weren't prepared for this, but they had to make it work. One SNAFU after another. He continued the exchange of cover fire. He could barely see the top of Jaz's head as she slinked toward them. She rounded the corner, just three feet from the car they were using for cover, when she pitched forward and cursed. He heard a hiss escape her pursed lips, but she didn't stop. She continued her crawl. She made it around the car and then slumped next to McG.

"Jaz?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm good," she said with a deep shaky breath.

"Like hell you are," he said with a furrowed brow. "Doc?"

"Not exactly easy to get a good look here, Top," McG said as he nodded to the gunfire that went off every time they moved.

"We need to find better cover," Jaz told him with a sigh.

He hated to admit it but she was right. They couldn't stay here.

"Eyes peeled," Dalton said as he motioned them forward. He kept an eye on Jaz as they moved. She grimaced with a every low stride.

"Top, Defendable structure," Preach said as he nodded toward a building that was ahead of them on the left. One entrance, one exit. That could be bad and good. No one could sneak in without them noticing but if they were discovered it might be impossible to get out. No windows, so no weak points for a shoot out. But no windows could also hinder them if they needed a visual on combatants. They were blind here. They had no idea who was behind the bomb or who had them surrounded. Definitely no idea why and, momentarily anyway, no communication with control.

The 'defendable structure', as Preach called it, wasn't perfect but it was the best they had until they had coms up and control could give them extra eyes. Dalton nodded at Preach and motioned him to take the lead. Dalton took up the rear, making sure to keep Jaz in front of him. The team cleared the building and secured the entrance behind them before Dalton took a moment to confront her.

"What happened?" He asked.

She winced, long and slow, and put her weapon down before revealing the blood drenching her side.

"McG," Dalton said immediately. "Patch her up."

He forced himself to step away. It wasn't the first time one of them had been shot mid-mission. It wouldn't be the last. But damn if it didn't hurt him as much as it hurt her. McG stepped in and got to work. He was low on supplies because, again, they were unprepared for a second mission so soon.

"I can make it work though. No doubt," he said urgently as Dalton gave him a steely look. "Temporarily anyway. But we've gotta get her out of here because the most I can do is slow the bleeding and hope to force some clotting. I don't have anything to stitch with."

"What we need is our eye in the sky," Dalton said with a thoughtful sigh. "We're blind and boxed in." And bleeding, he thought as he cast a subtle glance over at Jaz.

"We can't just sit around waiting for it," Amir said with a shake of his head. "We don't have that kind of time."

"Alright," Dalton said with a nod. "Amir, Preach, recon. Scout the building, see if you can get us an idea of what's out there."

They nodded and carefully made their way out of the rundown building to survey the perimeter. They needed good news.

"Doc?" Dalton asked hesitantly. He'd been working on Jaz for a while. Too long.

McG shook his head, subtle and short, as he was trying to put enough gauze on her wound to absorb the blood.

Jaz chuckled, but there was a sheen of perspiration on her brow and she looked pale. "Never heard you so quiet, McG. Maybe one of us should bleed profusely more often."

Dalton knew she was joking but he couldn't say he appreciated that joke. She didn't look good. He could see her eyelids getting heavier by the minute. _God, please let her stay alert_ , was his most pressing thought at the moment.

McG snorted and rolled his eyes at her. "I'm just saving it up for when you're more alert. That way I _know_ I'll piss you off."

"A likely excuse," Jaz said with a grin. "You okay over there, Top?" She asked as she looked from McG to him with a weak smile.

He quirked a brow at her in amazement. "You focus on you, okay? I'm good."

"Are you sure that's what you want me to focus on?" She asked with a soggy chuckle. "I'm bleeding out in a killbox."

Despite himself he smirked at her. Still a smartass, even when wounded and bleeding. "Good point. Focus on that beer we're gonna get when this is all over."

"Better be more than a beer," she muttered.

He did manage a laugh then and shook his head. "One problem at a time, Jaz. Let's get you out of here first and then we'll work on the alcohol."

"Deal," she agreed.

There was a crackle in his ear as his com sprung to life.

"Dalton? _Adam, are you there?_ " Came Patricia's urgent voice.

"10-4," he replied immediately. "We need evac. Jaz has been hit."

"Pulling up possible routes," he heard Noah say quickly.

"Lay low until we get back to you with an extraction plan," Patricia ordered as the coms went silent again.

Just the good news he needed. Preach and Amir came back and advised that the immediate perimeter seemed clear but they were unknown unfriendlies further out. They were safe for the time being. He glanced over at Jaz and her eyes blinked slowly and he could see the fatigue setting in. Control better come up with that extraction plan fast.

"Hey," Dalton said as he knelt down in front of Jaz. He needed to keep her awake and alert. "If not a beer then what are we drinking when we get out of here?"

She grinned faintly and shrugged. Hissing at the movement. "Tequila or whiskey is fine by me."

"Whiskey," Dalton told her. "Tequila's for the weak."

She laughed softly. "You think so, huh? Is that because the last time we did tequila shots I outlasted you?"

"You did not outlast me."

"Oh please, you folded like a cheap card table when we got to that last shot."

The rest of the team chuckled at them.

"She's not wrong, Top," Amir agreed with a smirk.

"Alright, fine," he said with a half grin. "Rematch when this is all over. Tequila shots, you and me."

"Sounds like my kind of date," she said with a weak chuckle. Her body was nearly limp even though she was conscious and talking. Her eyes had been half-lidded for longer than he was comfortable with and her words were starting to slur. None of this was encouraging and he was having a difficult time keeping his level head.

Jesus, she was fading fast. Where was that extraction?

McG busied himself with redressing her wound and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. He'd never seen McG look nervous so it made Dalton's chest tighten when he noticed the unsure expression on his teammates face. They were running out of time.

"Adam?"

Patricia's voice was in his ear again and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell me good news," he answered.

"We got you a bird. ETA five minutes. How's Jaz?"

"It's touch and go," he answered. "Tell that bird to fly faster."

"Will do."

"McG, can we get her up?" Dalton asked. "Our ride's almost here."

It took them nearly all of the five minutes to get Jaz up and situated comfortably between them. At least the movement forced her to look slightly more alert.

"As soon as we touch down I gotta get that bullet out, stitch her up and then she's gonna need blood," McG said as they heard the roar of the helicopter outside.

Dalton nodded and then motioned for Preach and Amir to lead the way out, weapons at the ready in case of any unwelcome guests. They rushed to the helicopter and loaded up. They'd investigate this bombing later, when they weren't outgunned, outmanned and underequipped. Or down a team member, Dalton thought as he bit back a worried sigh.

* * *

They touched down and rushed Jaz to the infirmary where McG got to work. The infirmary had all the supplies he needed. Dalton left McG to it and went to find a place to himself. He'd kept his cool as best he could in the field but here, out of immediate danger, there was no urgency to keep him in check. Just waiting.

" _People like us don't do powerless very well."_

The image of Jaz grinning as she spoke those words with a beer in one hand popped into his head and seemed so vivid he almost thought she was actually there.

McG had assured him she'd been fine but that wasn't what was bothering him. He knew she'd be okay. She was _Jaz_ and tough as nails. What bothered him was the fact that he'd been stuck in one spot, unable to help her. There was no action he could take in that moment to ease her pain. Since the minute he'd seen her stumble forward and heard her curse, he'd been helpless.

He sat down and rubbed a hand over his face. Why was this a big deal? He'd had guys shot on the job before and it never hit him like this. The answer came back to him immediately. He knew what the difference was, but there was no way in hell he was saying it out loud.

Not yet anyway.

There was a knock on the door frame across from him and he looked up to find Preach smirking at him.

"You look like hell, man," Preach said with a knowing chuckle.

"It's been a long day," Dalton offered with a sigh.

"Yeah, but they're all long days," he told him. "That's not what this is," he said with a grin. "And you know it."

"Not the time or place, Preach," Dalton said with a shake of his head.

Preach quirked a brow at him. "Well, at least you're not denying it."

"I don't like lying. Not even to myself," Dalton admitted.

A bottle clanked down on the floor next to him and Dalton looked from Preach to the bottle before he picked it up. He chuckled and shook his head as he realized it was a bottle of tequila. "Where did you even find this?"

He shrugged and smirked at him. "I have my sources. Thought I'd help you out. I mean, you do have a date after all."

"I can't believe I agreed to that. There's no way in hell I could ever win," Dalton told him with a grin. "But thanks for this," he said as he motioned to the glass bottle.

"Whatever I can do to meddle and push the two of you along, I'm happy to do," Preach said with a teasing grin.

"Gee, thanks, _mom_ ," Dalton said sarcastically.

"Somebody's gotta do it," Preach told him. "And I gotta tell you, I'm not even sorry."

Amir appeared in the doorway a few moments later. "She's done. She's good."

Dalton felt relief wash over him and took the tequila bottle with him to check on her. She was sitting up, her shirt had been discarded, leaving her in her pants and her black sports bra with a large white gauze pad taped over her bullet wound. Her color was back and she didn't look clammy or as if she were about to pass out. He let that image of her bleeding on the floor fade from his memory and replaced it with this much healthier image.

He set the bottle of tequila down on the table next to her.

"I believe we have a rematch on the schedule," he told her with a smirk.

She laughed and shook her head at him. "Man, I was giving you a chance to bow out gracefully," she told him as she picked up the glass bottle. "Too late now though. I hope you're prepared to lose."

He was gonna lose something, alright, but he wasn't at all sure he was prepared for it.


End file.
